Warning: Before you proceed, just keep in mind that English is NOT my mother language. So if you ever see vocabulary or grammar mistake in this text, don't hesitate to warn me. I'm always eager to improve :)

Author's note: This story was written at once after what happened in "OVER THE LIMIT 2011", especially with the Inter-Continental championship opposing Wade Barrett to Ezekiel Jackson.

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As I hear the growing ticking.

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Seattle, Washington. May 22nd 2011.

The Corre members left the arena and the ramp behind them as the next Over-The-Limit match was about to begin. Of course, the next match wouldn't start before the medics took Ezekiel Jackson away from the ring. Oh, he was going to be mad! Oh, he was going to try and make them pay dearly at next Smackdown, but tonight, they had proven that they were united, no matter what. And since Zeke had publicly announced a few days earlier that he had used The Corre for his own purposes since the beginning, if any of the three remaining members of the said group still had an ounce of remorse or sympathy for him, it was now gone.

Heath Slater was chatting loudly with Justin Gabriel on his side as the three of them were walking to their locker room. The red-haired fighter was overjoyed and over-excited again. For many weeks, he had been on the receiving end of severe beatings from the world's largest athlete, The Big Show. Now that the tables had turned, he tended to express his exhilaration and his euphoria in a quite boisterous way, earning dark glances from the other wrestlers. His own team members were even starting to search – with a smile - for the OFF button somewhere.

The two former tag-team champions were so caught in their happy conversation (almost being a monologue from Heath) that none of them noticed that they were gradually distancing Wade Barrett. Not that they had sped up. The Intercontinental champion has started to slightly slow his pace. His face expression was still somehow arrogant, but his jaws were clenched, and there was a slight limp in his walk. Imperceptible, unless you paid a real close attention to him. But nobody - sane - wanted to pay a close attention to him. Because that would mean to either meet his gaze or worse, be at arm reach.

The adrenaline was gradually leaving his system now, and Wade was starting to feel the aftereffect of five body-slams in a row from his opponent. Not to mention all the previous beatings he had received. Jolts of pain were occasionally flashing through his spine, at each of his steps. He was glad the Corre locker room was not far from where he now stood. He would soon be able to remove the mask of confidence. He got a brief thought about what would have happened had Heath and Justin not ran down the ramp to save him a few minutes ago from Zeke's torture rack. He wouldn't probably be able to walk right now. Probably in a state worse than when he had been defeated by the Big Show and his K.O. punch in the Elimination Chamber. And back then, Big Show had briefly checked on him afterwards, not very reassured by his total lack of reaction.

But right now, Wade managed to keep a severe frown on his face, knowing that this would push away any curious wrestlers or crew members. Years of fighting in the wastelands of Europe had printed deep inside of him the vital necessity to never show any weakness in front of potential opponents. He also thought it was necessary that everybody thought that even after everything Zeke had tried on him, he hadn't left a scratch on The Corre. He saw Heath and Justin entering their locker room at the end of the corridor and was glad that just a few more steps and he would be safe. He then happened to walk pass another locker room which door was opened and a quick glance inside caused him to almost startle. This movement just caused more pain in this back, but he barely slowed down. He had just seen John Cena, his once archenemy when he was in RAW last year. From the very few he had glimpsed, the older man was looking the wall in front of him, in an apparent attempt of meditation and focus. Wade almost stopped to give him a little talk, a kind of neutral cheer from one champion to another. But he quickly changed his mind. What would he tell him? "Hi! I just came by to wish you good luck!" ? No. Wishing Good Luck was said to bring bad omens.

"Hi! I just came by to wish you break a leg!" ? Not exactly appropriated due to the circumstances. No, him cheering up Cena would be odd. After everything that had happened between them in the past, every bad and utterly ugly things, this would be surreal. Cena would think that Wade was mocking him one more time, and even if he took him seriously, Wade clearly remembered that every times he had tried to apologize and make peace with Cena, the older man had just slapped his olive branch right back in his face.

Wade was not in the mental state to stand another insult, nor in the physical state to resist would Cena decide to jump on his throat. It was better to avoid and ignore him. Better for Cena's focus on his huge match to come. Better for his own safety. Wade resumed his walk to the Corre locker room. As soon as he entered their lair, he closed the door and leant against it, sighing and closing his eyes.

« You okay ? ». It was Heath voice. Wade got a thin smile and half-opened his eyes.

« 'need a shower », was his simple reply. If he didn't want to show any weakness to the other wrestlers, this included his own team as well. But for different reasons. Justin and Heath had first been rivals to him back in FCW and NXT. Then at RAW, they had become associates in the Nexus group, where Wade had gradually seen the potential they had. Little by little, they had turned from mere-associates to people he could start to trust. And after they gave up everything they had and were in order to follow him to SMACKDOWN and form The Corre, he had grown a liking on those two. And after months of travelling together, and fighting against adversity from every other wrestlers, Wade realized they had become more than just a group or even a family. They had become real friends.

Sure there were still tensions sometimes here and there, like in any honest group, sure the idea of choking the red-haired one in his sleep with a pillow had occasionally crossed Wade's mind; especially during the many nights when Heath's loud snoring prevented him from sleeping. But he liked those two guys. He liked them enough to lie to them about his injuries so that they wouldn't worry. He knew that even if they were a group of equals, they were unconsciously looking up at him for guidance. Almost as if months under his lead during 2010 when they were in the Nexus had marked them deeper than they ever suspected. And since Zeke, the fresh air in their group, the only one who had never been part of Nexus earlier, had left, they were only amongst Nexuses now. And old habits were probably hard to lose.

He had to look strong as long as he could, for them. As long as it would be possible for him, he would hide to them the real extend of the pain he could sometimes feel after a fight. He could take care of himself, or go and see a medic if things were really wrong. But as long as he could, he would remain the strong figure to them. He was the cohesion, the glue force inside the Corre on which the two younger ones would rely. He was like a king without a crown, but he would go on for his men. For his friends.

He pushed himself from the door, wincing slightly, but glad none of them was watching in his direction, too busy they were talking to each other while rummaging in their own bags. He kneed in front of his bag in a movement slightly slower than usual, clenching his teeth, and took a towel and some casual cloth. Justin saw him in the corner of his eyes as he leant on the locker room to help himself standing up, and frowned.

"How's your back, Wade?".

Wade was facing away from him, so the South-African didn't see the frown on his face. He only heard his casual reply. "A little sore, but nothing that will resist a good warm shower", he jokingly added, turning to the brown haired man with a half smile. He might have been a good actor, for apparently Justin bought this and brought his attention back to his own bag.

Wade could feel the adrenaline and endorphin level disappearing in his blood system as quickly as the mist in the morning breeze, and he knew he was running out of time. He removed his boots as well as the protections on his knees, elbows and wrists, and walked to the bathroom. He closed the door behind him, choosing the far end shower, and putting his street cloth in a dry area. He turned the shower on, and the time it took for the water to be warm enough to create vapor steam, he had gotten rid of his ring cloth and slid under the hot water, isolating him from the world like a soft curtain.

Only at that moment did he remove the mask and the control he had on himself. He curled up in the shape of the ball, his eyes shut tight and his mouth opened in a silent scream as an agonizing pain flashed through his spine, ribs and sore muscles. This wasn't the first time he was in such a state after a fight, and he knew this wouldn't be the last time. Just as he knew that every fight was closing him to the end of his career. At each of his fights, he could hear a ticking sound. And the more the fights, the louder the ticking. One day in a perhaps near future, he would start losing feelings in his arms or legs. Another day, he would realize he was losing strength. Another day, the pain in his back would become so intense that he would have to drop the mask and accept the medics' help right in the middle of the ring in front of thousands of people. And every time, the ticking would become louder and louder.

He had already interrupted his career a few years earlier due to a torn muscle that had taken months to heal. This wasn't unusual for wrestlers. Everyone who chose wrestling as a profession knew that their career would be probably bright if they had the talent. But like every lamp, the brighter they burn, the shorter they last. In the beginning of your career, you almost didn't think about it. You almost didn't hear the ticking. But by the end of your career – if an unfortunate accident didn't happen earlier – the ticking was everywhere around you, always reminding you that your time was running shorter and shorter.

Wade had to put his fist in his mouth to muffle the wail of agony that tried to escape his throat as another lightning pain flashed through his back. He didn't want to alert his two other friends, hoping that the noise from the shower would cover every sound. He just hoped the warmth of the water would sooth his muscles and relax him soon enough so he could walk back to his friends as if everything was all right.

While he was still curled up in an almost fetal position, his thoughts travelled to a few other wrestlers. Especially the older ones. Those legends who still looked very impressive whenever they arrived on the ring, but who strangely barely fought. The aura around their name only was enough to guarantee that they would win the match. But would their opponent decide to go fully against them, they wouldn't have the slightest chance. Wade wondered if - when himself would be 45, or even 50 – the name "Wade Barrett" would be powerful enough to make the younger ones tremble in fear, so that he wouldn't have to go in a full fight against them. Nowadays, some people kept calling him "the kid". But he was not the younger one in the group. Not at all. He was already 30 years old! Many younger wolves were waiting in the darkness, waiting for an occasion to prove themselves. And if they wouldn't get their hands on the Top Superstars of the WWE, they could decide to attack him instead. He was a valuable target, come to think of it.

At 30 years old, John Cena had already achieved a tremendous career, and even though many fans were against him right now, at 33 years old, his career was at its top. Where would himself be at 33, Wade wondered.

He had received a huge push the year before, for his debut at the WWE as the leader of the Nexus, and he had learned a lot from John Cena back then. Working with the Champ had been a bonanza for him! He hadn't realized how lucky he had been until now, after his fall, as he had now to slowly climb his way from mid-cart into the light again. The WWE had apparently decided this years' Heel Push would be for Alberto Banderas – now Del Rio. Maybe that's what he should have done to Cena earlier. Not wishing him 'Good Luck/Break a Leg', but simply telling him 'Thank you'.

Three years. In three years, he ought to be like John Cena, he swore to himself. Certainly not wearing the same flashy outfit as him, or doing the stupid gimmick of his, but reaching his level. If he hadn't prove himself by the age of 33, maybe the ticking sounds would become too loud for him to focus clearly any longer.

And by reaching his level, he didn't mean just "beat him in a fair one-on-one match". Becoming as notorious as he was, being recognized as a top face of the company, and not only as a "potential future of the WWE". Going back into the main events. Being involved into tremendous feuds and great matches. Leaving his named graved into stone, and not written in the sand and washed away by the tides of time.

All that before the ticking sound would become too loud.

He could already hear the ticking growing. He realized he was actually lucky to understand what it meant. This would lead him to be careful and not running head first into matches and situations that would considerably shorten his career. He knew that in the immediate future, there would be matches against monsters like Kane, The Big Show, and even Zeke. Especially Zeke. All his direct opponents scheduled for the next few weeks or months were huge guys who hit strongly. Very strongly. So he would have to be careful. Very careful.

And as his muscles started to relax, he realized that he had perhaps been in this shower for a little bit too long. His two friends would start worrying. He reached out for the knob and shut the shower off, regretting it almost instantly as his warm curtain disappeared. But he had no other choice. First, his friends wouldn't be long to come in and see why he was lasting this long. Second, he had to make himself presentable for the photoshoot after the show, where all the champs would be standing side by side with their respective belt on their shoulders. He wondered if Cena would win this "I QUIT" match against the Miz tonight.

He secretly hoped that Cena would remain the WWE champion after tonight. And for a long time. Wade would find it more motivating to look up at him and reach his level, if it meant in the end to defeat him for the title. Plus, he wasn't very fond of standing near The Miz in a photoshoot. The Miz had a natural talent to ruin a picture.

And as he started to dry his now burning skin, another thought crossed his mind. If he had to be careful, he had to stay out of reach of Zeke for a while, just the time to have completely healed from tonight's fight. This would mean to pray so that he wouldn't have a rematch against Zeke soon. As Justin and himself had already faced Zeke, if there was no rematch at next Smackdown, Heath would most likely be the one to face Zeke. Wade made a decision: if The Corre ever had to interfere, and his spine wasn't healed from tonight's match, he would do all his best to help Heath, but he would not set a foot in the ring.

He just hoped Heath would understand…

… as he tried once again to ignore the ticking around him.

The growing ticking…

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TO BE CONTINUED.

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Let's now just hope – as The Corre seems more united and so, mentally stronger than before – than there won't be such tension appearing inside because of situations described above.

On a more positive note: let's hope the Creative Team will let the feud Nexus vs Corre rises from the ashes with the Tag-Team championship ;-)

Hugs :)

::Roselyne::